A/N - I decided it would probably be a good idea to put a disclaimer at the beginning of this story. I do not own any of the Gilligan Island characters, and I do not own Van Morrison and/or Brown Eyed Girl. As I listened and sang along to this song on the car ride to visit my mom (who fell and broke her arm .) I got to thinking about MaryAnn's big brown eyes and how they would affect her mighty sailor man. I basically wrote it in my head during the car rides there and back - so when I got home, I put it down. Hope you like it - hope you sing along :D
On a beautiful Tuesday morning in late May, 1967, William Gilligan sat on a log at the water's edge, tapping his foot and bopping his head to the music on his transistor radio. He was reeling in an empty hook, having lost his third worm that morning.
He wasn't frustrated, though . . . far from it. The castaways had an adequate supply of food stored away. He was fishing more for the fun of it.
The waterfall across from him was spilling vibrantly into the lagoon, the morning sun was shining brilliantly into his face making him squint his eyes, and the light breeze carried a delicious scent of the Hawaiian wildflowers growing in abundance in the jungle behind him. In fact, if he had bothered at all to consider his current situation, he would have found himself to be as happy as he had ever been.
WLBR, Gilligan's current favorite radio station, was just finishing up a half-hour tribute to The Mosquitoes, his favorite band.
"This is Bertram Butterworth with WLBR, and that wraps up the Mosquitoes tribute this morning. In recent news, Irving Patterson, the drummer for the Mosquitoes, is getting married next month. His new bride is hoping to honeymoon in Hawaii – although our sources inform us that he is resisting the tropical trip."
Gilligan glanced at the radio with a grin. Having met Irving and the other Mosquitoes two years ago, he was trying to imagine the shy Irving getting married. But then again, he thought, I never figured I'd have a girlfriend like MaryAnn. He smiled proudly as he put a new worm on his hook and cast his line into the water.
The radio announcer continued. "Listen up, all you crazy cats out there. Here's an up-and-coming new artist who's about to spin your world. Van Morrison with a little ditty called "Brown-Eyed Girl".
Gilligan perked up. "Brown-Eyed Girl?" he thought. Sounds like MaryAnn. He looked at the radio, almost as if he could see the young new star emerging. He enjoyed the instrumental beginning, but when the lyrics started, he dropped his fishing pole into the softly-lapping waves. He knelt in the sand and picked up the radio.
"Hey, were did we go,
Days when the rains came
Down in the hollow
Playin' a new game,
Laughing and a running, hey, hey
Skipping and a jumping
In the misty morning fog with
Our hearts a thumpin' and you
My brown eyed girl,
You my brown-eyed girl
Gilligan smiled. Leaning back against the log, he absent-mindedly pulled his fishing pole back up next to him. Then he rested his arms across his knees and pictured himself laughing and running and skipping and jumping with MaryAnn, then walking in the thick steamy fog on the trail to the "hot tub". With a smile on his face, he knew how she got his heart a-thumping.
The next verse got even better.
Whatever happened
To Tuesday and so slow
Going down the old mine
With a transistor radio
Standing in the sunlight laughing
Hiding behind a rainbow's wall,
Slipping and sliding,
All along the waterfall with you
My brown eyed girl,
You my brown eyed girl
Gilligan chuckled. The line "going down the old mine" reminded him of the long nights mining in Mr. Howell's gold mine.
But then . . . that phrase "rainbow's wall" – that sounded so pretty. He remembered a day not too long ago, when it was drizzling out. He and MaryAnn were running to get the laundry off the line before it got too wet, and they got caught in a downpour. It stopped almost as fast as it had started. He remembered looking at MaryAnn, who was all glistening with raindrops and as the sun poked out behind her, she suddenly seemed to be engulfed in a rainbow.
He couldn't even count the times they had strolled by the waterfall holding hands . . . nor could he count how many times he had slipped and slid through the mud by the stream, making MaryAnn laugh.
He liked the chorus, and found himself singing along with it quite easily.
But the third verse made him a bit sad. Apparently, the guy in the song doesn't get to keep his brown-eyed girl and seems to be looking back at the memories.
So hard to find my way,
Now that I'm all on my own.
I saw you just the other day,
My how you have grown,
Cast my memory back there, Lord
Sometimes I'm overcome thinking 'bout
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium with you
My brown eyed girl
You my brown eyed girl.
Then back to the chorus. As Gilligan sang along with sha la la la la, he found himself overcome, too. Thinking about MaryAnn . . . her brown eyes . . . that special smile she has – just for him . . .
He hoped that he would get to keep the girl. He thought of going home to Pennsylvania and her to Kansas. It made his heart ache.
And then that line . . . making love in the green grass . . . He looked around as if to see if the birds and monkeys could see him blushing.
Gilligan set the radio down as the song ended. With his arms around his knees, he rested his chin on them and sighed.
"This is Bertram Butterworth with WLBR, and that was Van Morrison with Brown-Eyed Girl. Stay tuned for some more hits coming your way, right after these words from our sponsor."
The radio started playing a jingle for a laundry detergent. Gilligan scowled at the radio. How long would he have to wait to hear that song again? There were so many words and lines in that song that made him think of her.
Crossing his ankles, he grabbed his fishing pole with one hand and the radio with the other, and spun himself up into a standing position.
Resting his pole onto his shoulder, he found himself singing sha la la la la la la la la la te da as he strolled through the jungle, hoping to run into his very own brown-eyed girl.